


Storm Clouds and Stew

by orangesock



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Eating, Gen, Stuffing, stew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25420036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangesock/pseuds/orangesock
Summary: Snufkin has never been one to waste food. One day he makes a big pot of stew for him and his friends. But when incoming storm clouds scare them away, Snufkin has no choice but to start eating.
Kudos: 17





	Storm Clouds and Stew

Moomin, Snorkmaiden, Sniff, and Little My were all sitting around Snufkin’s campfire, watching Snufkin stir the full pot of stew that was sitting above the fire. The daylight was fading quickly. The end of their meal, they would have to walk home in the dark. Suddenly, the sunlight dimmed even more, and something cast a light shadow over the valley. Snufkin looked up, dismayed to see a massive stormcloud approaching. 

“Oh dear,” Snorkmaiden said, her paws on her snout. “It looks like it’s going to rain!” 

“It sure does,” Sniff said warily. “Sorry, Snufkin, but I’m outta here!” 

Sniff got up and began to run, but not before giving the group one last wave goodbye. 

“Oh, Snufkin, I’m sorry,” Snorkmaiden said, “but I really don’t want to get caught in the rain. It’ll ruin my hair! Come on, Moomin. We’d better get back to Moominhouse!” 

“Another time, Snufkin!” Moomin called as Snorkmaiden dragged him away. “I promise!” 

And then it was just Little My. 

“Well, I’d love to stay,” she said slowly, “but that cloud looks bad. What are you going to do?” 

“I’ll just stay in my tent until it passes,” Snufkin said. “But as for all this stew…” 

“You’ll just have to eat it yourself! Hahaha!” Little My’s obnoxious laugh drilled into Snufkin’s ears, worsening his already dampened mood. “Bye! See you tomorrow!” 

Snufkin watched as Little My ran the rest of the way back to Moominhouse. Rain was unpredictable and no one knew when it was going to come, or if it would come at all. Snufkin wished it would, if only to justify everyone leaving him with this big pot of stew. Moomin had borrowed it from Moominmamma’s kitchen, just for this occasion. It was so large, and there were no containers to save it in. Snufkin looked back up at the sky. More clouds were rolling in. It didn’t feel like rain was coming, but you never know what might happen. 

Snufkin stirred absently at the soup until he was interrupted by a voice that was almost as grating as Little My’s. 

“Hiya Snufkin!” Stinky grinned at him, a hand raised in hello. “That’s quite a big pot you’ve got there. Where are all your friends?” 

“They were scared off by the clouds,” Snufkin sighed. 

“Well that’s just too bad! Looks like you’ve got more than enough stew there– could I have a bowl?” 

Usually Snufkin wouldn’t even think of sharing with Stinky, but how petty did he have to be to not share his excess of stew tonight? 

“Sure,” Snufkin relented. He picked up a bowl and ladled soup into it until it was filled to the top. Then he handed it over to Stinky, you began slurping at it before Snufkin could even reach for a spoon. 

Snufkin filled a bowl for himself and began to eat as well. Stinky was done well before him. The little creature set the bowl on the log beside him and let out a long burp before thanking Snufkin for his kindness. 

“Although,” Stinky added, because he could never just be polite, “it looks like you’re not going to be able to finish all of that on your own, anyway. What a waste of delicious stew!” 

“Mh. Would you like some more?” Snufkin asked. 

“No thanks,” Stinky said, grinning devilishly. 

“But there’s still so much left,” Snufkin said, trying to keep himself from sounding like he was begging. “You’re wasting it by not eating it. Moomin didn’t bring me any containers to save it in!” 

“Sorry,” Stinky snickered. He knew Snufkin could never waste food. “I’m full. But not as full as you’re going to be!” 

Stinky cackled and skipped off into the trees, leaving Snufkin and his stew alone. Snufkin peered into the pot. There was still so much to go. With his friends here, they could’ve demolished the pot in no time, especially Sniff. But it was just Snufkin. He filled another bowl for himself. Stinky was wrong– he was going to eat it all. Letting the stew go bad was not an option. So Snufkin began to eat. 

Three bowls in, Snufkin was starting to feel it. He’d definitely made a dent in the stew, but there was still quite a lot to go. This was going to be difficult, especially with his stomach already protesting the way it was. His belly was a little distended and achy, but Snufkin couldn’t let that deter him. He drank the remaining broth from the bowl and leaned in to scoop up more. 

When he was done with his fifth bowl, Snufkin examined the pot. He seemed to be about halfway done. His stomach wasn’t happy about that. Snufkin pressed his palm to his overly-full belly. It was firm, and pressed against his smock. He couldn’t hide it– anyone who looked at him could see he had eaten far too much. Well, that didn’t matter. He just couldn’t let this food go to waste. 

After his seventh bowl, Snufkin sunk down to the ground to let himself lean back against the log he had been sitting on. He was so unbearably full. Snufkin thought food was supposed to give you energy, but he felt so sluggish and heavy. He didn’t think he could keep getting up to spoon himself bowls, so with quite a lot of effort, Snufkin reached up and pulled the big pot toward him, letting it rest between his legs. The metal was warm and felt nice against his legs. Snufkin pulled the pot a bit closer. His stomach pressed against it when he leaned forward to get himself more soup. The heat felt so nice on his tight, achy belly. As he ate more and more, Snufkin was both delighted and dismayed to see that his stomach pressed against the pot even when he wasn’t leaning forward. Delighted, because it was so warm and felt so good. Dismayed because his belly was massive and bloated and gurgling, and he wasn’t even done with the pot yet. Snufkin huffed, finding it harder to breathe, and tried to wiggle into a more comfortable position. His stomach gurgled in discontentment whenever he shifted, trying to sit up. There was just one more bowl of soup left. Snufkin could do this. He leaned forward, pelly pressed against the warm metal pot, and scooped up the last of the soup. He spooned the potatoes, fish, and vegetables into his mouth, and then lifted the bowl to his lips to drink the rest of the thick broth. 

When he was finally done, Snufkin set the bowl aside, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and leaned back. His stomach grumbled, and Snufkin slapped a hand over his mouth before a massive belch escaped from him. Snufkin whimpered and rested his hands on his stuffed belly. He felt awful. 

Snufkin looked up at the sky. The sunset was obscured by the clouds, but there was still no rain. There had been no reason for everyone to leave. Snufkin had suffered for nothing. He pushed the empty pot away from him and kicked it lightly. It rolled away and came to rest by the embers of the fire. 

“You really ate it all yourself?” a surprised voice asked. Stinky. 

“Yes I did,” Snufkin huffed. “Thanks a lot Stinky. But I’m not one to waste food.” 

“Jeez,” Stinky said, wandering over to Snufkin. He sat on the log, beside Snufkin’s shoulder. “You stuffed yourself silly! How are you feeling?” 

Snufkin crossed his arms, his shoulders hunching a bit when his new belly pushed his arms up. “Just fine, Stinky.” 

“Oh, goodie,” Stinky said, smiling. “Then you wouldn’t mind coming on a nighttime walk with me?” 

Snufkin gave him a look. “I’m not in the mood.” 

“Oh? You mean you’re too full to take a walk?” Stinky teased. “Isn’t it good to walk off a big meal?” 

“I’m tired,” Snufkin grumbled. 

“Go to your tent, then,” Stinky said, rolling his eyes. “Lie down.” 

Slowly, and with great effort, Snufkin lifted himself back onto the log, and from there, managed to stand. He was panting by the time he got to his feet, and every step toward his tent felt like torture. He wanted to lie down and fall asleep right there, but Stinky was watching him, and he didn’t want to be found before he woke up. 

“You look like your mother,” Stinky laughed and Snufkin turned to glare at him. “What? It’s true! Maybe you’re more mymble than mumrik after all!” 

Snufkin looked down at his belly. He really did look pregnant. 

“Shut up.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come walking with me?” Stinky asked. 

“I’m sure. I’m going to bed,” Snufkin said. He crouched down and crawled into his tent, finally safe from Stinky. Even the dirty little fuzzball had enough sense not to go into Snufkin’s tent. Snufkin laid himself on top of his sleeping bag and curled up around his belly. Next time, he would make food in batches.


End file.
